


A Vote of Confidence

by PecanSandy, wallaby24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 06:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PecanSandy/pseuds/PecanSandy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallaby24/pseuds/wallaby24
Summary: This week sucked, so we thought we'd write a cathartic fic for everyone.





	A Vote of Confidence

_Monday evening, March 11_

Theresa all but threw her red box onto her desk and plodded up the stairs to their flat. She’d walked this path at all hours of the night and morning, but this time was especially tiresome. She’d felt sick all day, and she could feel herself getting sicker with each passing hour. Her voice was on shaky ground during her joint statement with Juncker, but now it was barely there and accompanied by a painfully sore throat.

She started pulling off her coat and scarf as she climbed the last few steps and pushed open the door. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Philip appeared in front of her.

“I can take your things, love,” he said reaching for her bag, coat, and scarf. “Do you want a hot drink or a warm blanket? I could also draw you a bath if you want,” he rambled as he hurried to put her things away. She just stood there vaguely aware of the words he was saying, but not really processing their meaning.

He turned to her, his face indicating he expected a response, but she felt too tired to muster one. Instead, she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his torso. She let out a sigh of relief as she melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. What she really wanted was to crawl into bed with him and not get out for the next twenty-four hours, but since that wasn’t really an option she’d settle for the hug. He tightened his arms around her and settled in, waiting for a sign from her that she was ready to leave his embrace.

Eventually, she peeled herself away from him. “I think I’m just going to have a quick shower to wash the plane off of me,” she whispered as the pain in her throat become more apparent. A bath sounded very appealing and very warm, but it was far too late and she’d rather spend that time with Philip.

“You go ahead and I’ll get some pajamas together for you,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

The shower was heavenly. She spent a lot of her time being cold on a good day, but being sick made meant she’d had a chill since she left her bed that morning. As wonderful as the warm water felt, she felt an urgency to get back to Philip.

She finished her shower and stepped out to find neatly folded pajamas waiting for her on the counter. She smiled at the thought of Philip carefully selecting a warm pair for her. Feeling a bit like a zombie version of herself, she went through the motions of getting ready for bed. She carefully reattached her insulin pump and arranged the tubes so she’d be ready for bed. When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Philip waiting with a mug of something in hand.

“I made you an herbal tea. There’s some honey in there for your throat, but not too much.”

“Thanks,” she said hoarsely, taking the mug from him and sipping it carefully. The relief was instant as the warm liquid soothed her throat and the honey coated it, but the awful taste made her face scrunch up.

“I know it doesn’t taste good, but it’s supposed to help,” he said, obviously struggling not to laugh.

She raised an eyebrow at him and reluctantly took another sip.

“Why don’t you get into bed so you can lie down? After you finish your delicious tea, obviously,” he said with a cheeky smile that always lifted her spirits.

He pulled the covers back so she could climb into bed, and he tucked her back in and took a seat on the remaining space on the edge of the bed. She felt something warm at the foot bed, and kicked the covers around to figure out what it was.

“I know how cold your feet get, so I got a heating pad,” he said shyly, carefully smoothing the covers back over her. She felt a twinge in her chest, and made a concerted effort not to let her face show the emotion she felt. “I have some medicine for you too. Something for your sore throat.” He handed her the pills and a glass of water, all of which he’d prepared while she was in the shower.

“You’re perfect, you know?” she said, tossing the medicine in her mouth and swallowing it with a sip of water.

“It sounds like it hurts for you to talk, love. Just rest,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

She smiled at him and patted his spot beside her on the bed, hoping he’d get the message to get into bed with her.

“Right,” he said, jumping up and running around to his side of the bed. He slid under the covers into the space beside her and held his arms out.

She took the last sip of her tea and placed it on the bed-side table with an exaggerated grimace. He laughed and pulled her into his side, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She nuzzled her head under his chin and let out a massive sigh.

“How do you feel about tomorrow?” he asked, a hint of reluctance in his voice. She knew he’d wanted to talk about it as soon as she walked in the door, but he gave her the space she needed. “If it hurts your throat to talk, you don’t have to answer.”

“I can whisper,” she said, turning to place a kiss on his neck. “I don’t really know how to feel,” she rasped out, “I think this could move the needle, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”

“I hope it is enough so you can rest,” he said, worry apparent in the tone of his voice.

“Me too. I guess we’ll see once we get the legal advice.” They laid in silence for a few moments, and he tightened his arm around her.

“Whatever happens, I’m so proud of how hard you’ve worked to find a solution. You’ve been so diligent.”

From anyone else, those words would have felt patronizing, but from him they meant everything. She wanted to do her job well and serve her country to the best of her ability, but Philip’s opinion was always at the forefront of her mind.

“I couldn’t do this without your support… and your disgusting tea,” she whispered, eliciting a gentle laugh from him.

“I’ll be there tomorrow rooting for you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

“I should check my blood sugar before we fall asleep,” she whispered, moving to sit up.

“I can do it,” he said, softly pushing her back and rolling over to get her sensor out of the bedside table. He held it to the back of her arm and waited for a reading. “It seems okay. A little low from being in the shower, but you just had honey in the tea.”

“I’m glad you made the tea even though it was horrible.”

He laughed and they settled into a comfortable silence, and he pulled the covers up to her neck. “Are you warm enough, love?” he whispered softly.

She nodded and felt her eyes get heavier. Warmth enveloped her, and in a matter of moments, she could feel herself drifting off to sleep.

________________________________________________

_Tuesday afternoon, March 12_

Philip walked quickly through the corridors of the commons to his wife’s office. He’d jumped out of his seat as soon as he saw Theresa reach for her bag, the universal sign that she was leaving the chamber. He wanted to beat her there so he could be waiting when she arrived.

He’d studied her during the debate, even while she was seated, and noted every time she struggled to swallow, every tell that she was in pain. She’d looked up at him every so often, and he made a point of being ready with a reassuring smile. But there was little he could do to change the reality that yet another vote wouldn’t go her way. Now all he wanted was to wrap her up in a big hug.

He pushed through the doors to her office and relaxed slightly when he realized she wasn’t there yet. He looked down at his watch and leaned back against her desk to wait. The minutes passed slowly, and he guessed she’d, much to his dismay, been stopped for chats during the trek back to her office even though he knew she was probably willing herself to become invisible.

A creak of the old office door rang through the office and he looked up to see his wife in the doorway. She looked absolutely shattered, exhaustion apparent in her features and her posture. In a moment, all of the tough façade she put on to face the Commons melted away, and her face crumbled, her lip starting to quiver. He ran to her and pulled her into his arms, feeling each sob as it made its way through her tired body. There wasn’t anything useful for him to say, so he stayed silent and held her close, her head tucked against his shoulder.

“This is a nightmare,” she croaked out. He felt his heart shatter at the rare admission that she was miserable. She usually tried her hardest to stay positive, but he could tell she’d reached a breaking point. He turned to kiss the side of her head.

“I know, love. None of this is fair on you and you have every right to be upset.”

He held her until her breathing slowly evened out, and then he decided to test the waters. “Do you want me to sniff out some tea for you? It might feel nice on your throat,” he said leaning back and brushing her hair out of her face. “I could tell it was hurting you to swallow.”

She’d just pulled herself together, but her lip started to quiver again and he panicked. “Oh, sweetheart…” he said pulling her close again, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You haven’t upset me!” she whispered, patting his chest. “It just…means a lot that you’re here.” She pulled away and gave him a weak smile. “And I will have that tea.”

“I’ll see if I can find someone. Why don’t you sit down on the couch for a bit?” She nodded, and he kissed her forehead.

He opened the door to her private office and flagged down the first staffer he saw to fetch a tea. When he walked back into her office, Theresa had her eyes closed, resting her head on the back of the couch. He knew she was exhausted. She’d barely gotten any sleep the night before, and being sick made it even worse. He took a seat beside her, wanting desperately to cuddle up with her, but knowing he’d have to tear himself away soon to get her tea. So he settled for holding her hand while they waited.

A light knock on the door, and he jumped up to make sure the staffer didn’t wander in to see her so emotional. He opened the door enough to grab the tea and say his thanks before returning to his spot beside her on the couch.

“Here we are,” he said, carefully passing the cup to her. She blew on the top before sipping it carefully and relaxing back into the sofa.

“This is the best mediocre cup of tea I’ve ever had,” she croaked, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs underneath her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head on his chest between sips.

“Do you have to do any more speaking beyond the point of order after the vote?” he asked, hoping she’d get to rest her voice.

She shook her head before resting it back on his chest. “Just the point of order. We already have a speech for each occasion, but it seems pretty certain I’ll need the losing one,” she said, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how hard you’ve worked to make this happen.” Part of him was sad because he knew she would view this as a personal failure. The other part of him was furious with the factions of MPs who refused to recognize how hard she’d worked and how much of herself she’d poured into getting a good deal. But him venting wouldn’t help her, so he held her quietly, hoping some peace and quiet would be a restorative.

“I know you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but I’m so glad you’re here, Philip,” she said, mindlessly fiddling with his tie. “And I’m glad I get to go home with you… no matter how this vote goes.”

_____________________________________________

_Tuesday Evening, March 12_

Theresa felt her eyes fill with tears again, and she closed them briefly, forcing the tears back inside. She’d cried enough this afternoon. She didn’t have time for it now.

Nor did she have an excuse for it, she reminded herself. There was nothing surprising, not now, about a text message counting likely votes for the Spelman amendment. She’d known all afternoon it might very well pass. And then she’d need a whip against the motion. And then…

“Darling?” she heard Philip say, his tone asking if she was all right.

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. His face has the pained, loving concern it had worn in the gallery today, but her throat hurt too much to attempt to croak out her worries about any of the amendments. She had work to do, anyway: remarks to review for tomorrow’s votes and debates and points of order, and briefings to study for Prime Minister’s Questions in the morning. It was all a cruel mockery of the fact that talking was so painful that she was avoiding even simple conversation with her husband. Speaking from the despatch box tomorrow was absolutely the last thing on earth she wanted to do.

But she wasn’t there yet, she reminded herself, trying to focus on tonight. Tonight she was comfortably settled on her couch in their flat in her pajamas, wrapped up in the warm blanket Philip had brought her after she’d returned from the shower, slowly sipping the whiskey he’d mixed with lemon and honey for her throat—all while he sat at the other end of the couch, gently rubbing her feet. She was still perfectly miserable, but this was the best she’d felt all day.

Philip smiled when he glanced up to see her looking at him, and it only made her tear up again. “Can I get you anything, love?” he asked, and she shook her head, trying to refocus her blurred vision on her laptop screen.

Sooner than she would have liked, the whiskey and its soothing honey were gone, and she settled the glass on the floor next to the couch. “Would you like me to make you some more?” Philip asked softly, but she shook her head. It had helped, and she knew the slight relief it had brought wouldn’t last now that it was gone, but she also knew she ought not to consume too much of the honey and its sugar. She tried to focus instead on how good the pressure of his thumbs felt against her tired arches: she felt as though she’d been on her feet half the day, and she was so exhausted that her entire body ached.

At last Theresa closed her computer, satisfied with her preparations for tomorrow.

“Finished for the night?” Philip asked, and she nodded. “Are you ready to get to bed?”

She shook her head. She was tired—she could barely remember the last time she’d been this tired—but she didn’t want to sleep yet. As soon as she closed her eyes, she’d open them again and it would be tomorrow…and she dreaded tomorrow.

“I think you need to get some sleep, sweetheart,” Philip went on. “You barely slept at all last night, and you won’t recover without rest.”

Theresa shook her head again. “I don’t…” she began, whispering, but her throat closed around the words. The last of the honey coating had worn off, and her hand went to her throat as she swallowed painfully. “I’m not ready for tomorrow,” she rasped.

“Oh, my darling,” he breathed. She knew this week was a nightmare for her husband as well. “I wish I could help you.”

“You do help,” she whispered. She wanted to tell him how much more comfortable he’d made her tonight, but she simply did not have long sentences in her right now.

“How about something cold?” he asked. “I bought some sugar-free ice lollies this morning because I thought they might numb your throat. Do you want to try that?”

She nodded. That sounded good.

Philip stood and left for the kitchen, taking her empty glass with him and returning with an unwrapped pink ice lolly. “I know strawberry is your favorite,” he told her, giving her one of his warm smiles. She nodded and mouthed thank you, and he smiled again, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Theresa held her free arm out, reaching for him. “Do you want me to hold you?” he asked, and she nodded again. “Well, you don’t have to ask twice. Or even,” he said with a chuckle, “ask at all.”

He sat down on the couch next to her and gently took her in his arms, giving her another forehead kiss as she settled against him, her head resting on his chest, and they sat in silence for a few minutes as she let the frozen treat ease the pain in her throat.

“I have to do this all again tomorrow,” she finally whispered.

Philip sighed. “I know, darling. And I hate that for you. But tomorrow night you’ll come home earlier, and there won’t be a cabinet meeting, and you can relax a bit more. And then on Thursday, the votes will be over.”

Yes, they would be. The series of hellish votes would be over in just two days. Her deal was already over.

“I’m so sorry about what happened tonight, Theresa,” he went on. “I know how hard you worked for that deal.” She nodded. It changed nothing, but there was something very comforting about his sincerity.

“I have to speak so much tomorrow,” she rasped, swallowing the last bit of the ice lolly.

She felt him kiss the top of her head. “I wish it didn’t hurt you to talk. But maybe you’ll be a bit better tomorrow?”

She wouldn’t. She could feel it in her body. “I’m worse. I’ve only gotten worse.” Last night she’d merely had the beginnings of a sore throat. By the time she’d sat down to the cabinet meeting this evening, she’d felt as though she had swallowed a bowl full of glass shards and washed them down with rubbing alcohol.

“Why don’t you lie down for a bit?” Philip offered gently. “I can get you another ice lolly, and then you can put your head in my lap…and we could watch few minutes of Pride & Prejudice to help you relax before bed.”

How she loved this man. Tears filled her eyes again, and she nodded. It was exactly what she needed, and she knew it was not his choice of programming—although he often suggested it when she was stressed and needed a distraction.

She straightened so that he could disentangle himself and stand, and he returned moments later with a fresh ice lolly. Once he had fished out the appropriate DVD, he sat back down and helped her settle in, her body stretched out and her head resting on a sofa pillow on his lap.

As she watched the opening scenes of the Bennet family, she felt Philip begin to gently play with her hair, and she sighed, letting her eyes close briefly. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

______________________________________________

_Thursday Evening, March 14_

Theresa stretched her arms over her head and relaxed into the warm water, the scent of lavender floating into her nostrils. She decided she’d earned a bit of relaxation time, so she let Philip draw her a bath. He’d left her alone to decompress while he put together something for dinner, and she loved him for understanding that’s exactly what she needed.

She let herself rest for a while until she started to feel like her blood sugar was dropping. Reluctantly, she hauled herself out of the tub and got some comfortable clothes on. When she made it out to the kitchen, he was carefully cutting some fruit for them.

“This looks good,” she said, reaching in to grab an apple slice and leaning back against the counter.

“Do you feel low? This is almost ready,” he said, carefully studying her face.

“A little, but nothing urgent. Can I help with this?” she asked, gesturing at the food on the counter.

“All that’s left is the quiche warming in the oven. Why don’t you go sit, and I can bring this over?”

She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and snagged another piece of apple before finding a comfortable spot on the couch. There’d been a lot of quick meals in her office during the week, and she was looking forward to something leisurely at home with Philip. She looked over at the beautiful flower arrangement he’d gotten for her and she’d insisted on putting in spot where it could be properly appreciated. The thought of how wonderful he’d been made her chest tighten.

“Dinner time. I hope everything tastes okay,” he said appearing from the kitchen with two plates in hand.

“I’m sure it will. It looks good,” she rasped out with a smile.

“Well I absolutely slaved over this pre-made, reheated quiche and cut up fruit,” he said with a bright smile.

“Next thing you know, the papers will be beating down the door to ask about _your_ culinary skills.”

“I’m very proud of my knife skills,” he said, passing her a plate.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said, patting him on the leg.

“Of course, love,” he mumbled, taking a bite of quiche.

They ate sitting very close to each other, mostly in silence, and she could feel the stress of the week melting away just by being with him. She’d learned to savor moments like this with him because they came fewer and further between when things got busy.

“How’s your throat? I could make you some more of that delicious herbal tea,” he said, teasing her.

“As tempting as that sounds…how about you make another one of those whiskeys while I do the dishes?”

“Deal,” he said, standing and helping her up off the couch.

They danced around each other comfortably in the kitchen. She found a strange type of joy in simply being able to do her dishes. It was something normal in a time where there wasn’t much normality, and of course, Philip was there. She put away the last of the dishes and went to check on the status of the cocktails.

“What’s happening over here,” she said, wrapping her hands around his torso to hug him from behind and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Almost finished,” he said, adding some ice to their drinks. She still wasn’t feeling her best, but it felt really nice to just be at home with him. She kissed the side of his head and tightened her arms around him, earning a big smile.

“All done,” he said, picking up the glasses and spinning around to face her. “Let’s go sit.” He kissed her on the nose and led the way to the living room. Settling in beside him on the couch, she draped her legs over his lap and pulled a blanket over them.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

“We can go home in the morning. I have an event at a school in the afternoon, but we have tomorrow night free.”

“You seem like you’re feeling a bit better?”

“I am. Not a hundred percent yet, but much better,” she felt a shyness wash over her, “thanks to you.” He smiled sweetly at her, and she knew he needed to hear exactly how essential he’d been. “I couldn’t have made it through this week without you. You’ve been perfect… absolutely perfect.”

“I adore you,” he said, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “and all I want is to make this easier for you.” He rested his hand on her cheek, and she could see his eyes glossing over.

“You,” she said, reaching up to grab his hand, “do so much more than that just by being you. It’s meant so much to know I could come home and rest with you.”

In a rare moment for him, he didn’t seem to have anything to say, so instead he pulled her into a hug.

“I love you,” she whispered, turning to kiss his neck.

“I love you, too,” he said, squeezing her a little tighter.


End file.
